


Holes

by Homosexy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Clarke pov, F/F, Set in the canon timeline, for once, ive never written Angst before guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:38:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11366142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Homosexy/pseuds/Homosexy
Summary: Clarke has her memories and she holds on to them like a life raft





	Holes

**Author's Note:**

> hey I'm uploading this from my phone so the format may suck lol. Nobody asked for this tbh but I listened to Holes by Layla and decided to write some straight Angst for the first time. It's not really that Angst in the traditional sense tho?? Idk enjoy

Lexa was...

Clarke almost didn't let herself love her. The Commander had felt electric when they'd first met, or maybe that was just what was building in the air between them. Although that wasn't Clarke's first thought; she was outraged and when she threatened Lexa, forced her as far back as she could go, she wasn't even thinking. The moment she stopped speaking her whole body went numb as she realised what she'd done. Who this person was. Another part of her didn't care because she was angry enough to destroy the Earth if it meant justice.

A third part knew she would be fine, because whatever she was seeing in Lexa's eyes and whatever she chose to at that time ignore, she could see this woman had no intent of hurting her.

She never exactly realised when she'd fallen for Lexa. There were several who were prone to a sly comment whenever she mentioned her, but she never even realised until she was looking back on it. Dreams were weird and hazy, had been ever since she left the ship and Clarke didn't have time to examine the fragmented images of the commander's face floating through her head in the morning. Everything was at stake and introspecting about her dreams wouldn't bring her closer to an answer.

She thought she'd been angry the first time she met Lexa but this was new. Clarke had always had quite the temper, as her mother would but it, but she felt like she could very well ignite and become a being of flame. Her fingertips felt white hot and scorching tears were starting to be forced out through the sheer power of her anger. And then she was confused, for a split second. Surely the Commander herself didn't consider the Skaikru's leader someone of real political power, if the Skaikru were weak enough to be killed and thought nothing of, that didn't make any-

This wasn't political anymore.

Lexa kissed her and Clarke kissed her back.

That seemed to be how it went really. When Lexa captured her, Clarke was raging once again. Yet there she was, swearing fealty to Lexa not even a day after declaring she'd never do any such thing.

Lexa looked so pretty without her warpaint. Not that she didn't look pretty with it on but her face gained a new dimension as Clarke watched her sleep. She couldn't resist drawing her. She didn't seem vulnerable- if anything, stronger. Sleeping in front of Clarke meant Lexa was allowing her to really see her, willingly baring herself and taking away her mask. Not that her strength was a front, her fight with Roan was proof enough of that. Clarke couldn't tear her eyes away, couldn't help but shout out to Lexa when she won, to let her know that she had come to watch, that she believed in her.

Clarke didn't want to leave. And she couldn't cry, because it was Lexa. Lexa, the Commander who was unmatched in battle, who won her conclave, tough, stony and immovable... but that wasn't even a fraction of who Clarke knew her to be. There was care and vulnerability. She didn't want to cry, because she was afraid of how Lexa would (or wouldn't respond). And Lexa was going to let Clarke come to her, she'd realised that much. Every decision had been Clarke's to make, Lexa had forced nothing since Clarke's capture. The opportunity was Clarke's to take, or leave and regret.

Without knowing how, she'd come to love this woman, who was looking at her like she'd created the stars as Clarke gently pushed her down onto the bed. Her eyes were misty and Clarke knew she was guilty of a few tears too. How could she not be when she felt this strong, and almost out of nowhere. Suddenly, and she didn't even know how, Lexa had become someone she instantly connected to. She felt safe with her. Clarke never felt safe anymore but lying in that bed with Lexa, hair messy and cheeks flushed, she felt the kind of safety you don't feel when you eventually learn that your parents can't protect you from everything. The kind of safety that she shouldn't feel with someone she'd once held a knife too.

It could only come from Lexa. This wasn't like Finn, or anyone else. This energy, it was all Lexa's and unlike anything Clarke had ever felt or knew she would feel with anyone else. The questions had been a wrong step, but one that once again, Lexa was willing to forgive. That was another thing that amazed Clarke the more she thought about it, how patient Lexa had been with her. She was so gentle.

The memories weren't exactly bittersweet. Clarke hated that word. Bittersweet is what food you hate tastes like when you haven't eaten for four days and it's all that's available. Bittersweet is when you get to know someone as a result of accidentally injuring someone.

Bittersweet isn't even close to describing how she feels about her time with Lexa. Anger so bright it could light a thousand stars, and sadness so deep it could put out ten thousand more. Love, love so strong it hurts. Clarke had never loved someone like that before. Maybe she never would again. And the whole time, her duty and her burden, weighing her down. Lexa is like a talisman, keeping her going because she knows Lexa would have believed in her, still does believe in her from wherever her spirit resides now.

The worst part is nobody even knows. Clarke mentions it of course, but words fail to describe the soul-rending intensity of everything she feels. So she does what she does best. She patches up the holes, sutures them with clumsy shaking hands and picks herself up to try and help the people who are still here. To fight another day, to fight stronger.

It's exhausting. At times she doesn't want to live. How can she carry on? What does it matter if someone else dies like Lexa did, when Lexa is already dead?

But of course Clarke knows. Lexa would keep going. If Titus had hit his mark, Lexa would be carrying on trying to protect the Skaikru, trying to create peace in her name. Clarke can only do the same.

Her love for Lexa might engulf her like flames and burn hotter than a supernova, but love was meant to build the world up from the ground, not burn it down.


End file.
